Aftermath
by Kelcor
Summary: What could have happened (though not bloody likely! lol) in the three months between Nikki's 'death' and the testing of the bio-weapon. Hurt Mac! Fatherly Jack! With a hugely generous helping of h/c! Probably OOC. You've been warned. *wink* Rated 'T' to be safe.


"Jack!" The voice which time and friendship and brotherly love had ingrained into his psyche as the one he would always respond to was faint at first yet still gradually pulled him back to consciousness. But it was the panicked and agonized "JACK!" that yanked him back the rest of the way!

With a groan of pain that he didn't take the time to assess, he woke on a road, empty but for their HQ van parked on the side. The moments before losing consciousness came back to him in a rush – Mac retrieving the bio weapon; bullets flying; jumping with Mac from a speed boat racing through the water; Nikki with a gun aimed at her head; then… everything went black. Two seconds later, he was stumbling to his feet.

"Mac?" No response. "Mac!"

"Here!"

The voice sounded from far away but what had Jack even more concerned was the defeated tone. MacGyver was not one to give up. Ever. He staggered in the direction the voice had come from and was dismayed to find a large body of water on the other side of the waist high wall. Too large to be a pond. Beyond that, Jack couldn't tell. It was too dark. Which also meant, it was too dark to see MacGyver's exact location.

"Mac!" he called out again, hoping for another answer that he could use as a compass point. Instead, he heard only a splashing, as if the kid was flailing in the water. Sensing the urgency of the situation, that would have to do. Still damp from his last excursion into the water, Jack wasted no time diving in after his friend and, as soon as he came up for air, he called out again. "MacGyver!"

"Ja – "

The word was cut off by a gurgling sound. MacGyver was drowning! Jack swam as fast as he could toward the diminishing sounds of splashing water. By the time he arrived, everything was still. "No! No-no-no… Mac!" He dropped beneath the water but it was so dark, it may as well have been Texas crude oil.

Inspiration suddenly flew through his mind. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, silently praying the Life Case Mac had bought him for his birthday worked as well as the kid told him it would. His prayers were rewarded with a bright screen when he pressed the button and after a couple frantic swipes, he had a flashlight at his disposal.

He dropped beneath the water again, this time moving the flashlight around 360 degrees… There! The light caught onto Mac's white shirt as his body drifted further down beneath the surface. Jack stuffed his phone into his pocket again, then surged forward, desperately kicking his feet for more speed. He wrapped one arm around the slim waist and hauled his irreplaceable cargo up with him until they both broke through the surface of the water and back into precious, precious oxygen.

Except Mac wasn't breathing! Jack saw the blood, stark against the white of the kid's shirt, but refused to accept the possible implications. MacGyver was going to be fine. Because the alternative was simply not acceptable. Besides, if the kid didn't start breathing soon, the cause of the blood would be the least of Jack's concerns.

Not knowing how far it was to dry land, Jack knew his first priority was to get oxygen into the deprived lungs – even if that meant treading water at the same time. So, moving his feet in a bicycle motion with an occasional extra kick to the side, he cradled Mac against him with one arm, while pulling his mouth open with his free hand. The conditions weren't optimum but MacGyver wasn't the only one who worked with what was available to him.

Jack bent over the lax face and sealed Mac's mouth with his own, breathing for him. He pulled back to check for a pulse, then maneuvered him so that he could squeeze his diaphragm with one arm much like performing the Heimlich, only this time, the object he needed to get out was a whole lotta water. "Come on, brother. Breathe!" He cradled him again, breathed into his lungs, checked for a pulse, then maneuvered him to squeeze his diaphragm. One more time.

Cradle. Breathe. Pulse. Squeeze.

Finally, MacGyver coughed up the water filling his lungs and the first word he whispered, albeit hoarsely, was "Nikki…"

Jack had no idea what had happened to her. He could only assume she'd been taken hostage so that whoever had ambushed their mission could finish orchestrating his terrorist plot without interference from the Foundation. "I know, buddy," he consoled. "Don't worry, we'll find her." And the joke would be on the kidnappers because the Foundation never negotiates with terrorists.

Holding Mac up against him for another moment, he felt the blond head fall back against his shoulder as he pulled the white shirt aside to inspect the damage. He was more than a little relieved to discover that the cold of the water had slowed the blood flowing out of the wound. For the time being, anyway.

He pushed the hair out of his friend's face with one hand, then started swimming them both to shore. Mac tried to pull away and make the journey on his own but his limbs were uncoordinated at best, so Jack kept holding on. "Just let me do the work, kid. I gotcha."

MacGyver did stop struggling against him but Jack was 90 percent sure it was due to exhaustion more than any kind of acquiescence. They finally made it to shore. With Mac curled at his feet, Jack's gaze travelled up the slope leading to the road. He was disheartened to find that it wasn't very sloping at all… just straight up. There was no way he would be able to carry Mac up there, not without exacerbating the kid's injuries even further.

Trying to get ahead of the game, Jack took off his t-shirt and ripped a strip off the bottom. He bundled the remaining cloth into a ball and pressed it against the bullet wound in Mac's chest, earning a groan of pain from the younger man. He smoothed the wet bangs off MacGyver's forehead with a whispered, "Sorry, buddy, I gotta make sure you don't bleed out on me." He took the strip of t-shirt material and tied it around the slender chest to keep the makeshift bandage in place.

Next, he pulled out his cell phone again, thankful it was still working – this Life Case thing was an amazing invention for people in their line of work – and called Patty. He explained the situation – Mac is shot, almost drowned, no idea where Nikki is, need an exfil asap – then disconnected the call with an assurance from Thornton that a team would be there to extract them in less than twenty minutes.

Jack looked down at the shivering form at his feet. The breeze was gentle enough but the cold water coupled with what was sure to be shock setting in meant Jack was going to have to find them some kind of shelter. His gaze swept the area. There! A crevice between two rocks with a third over top to prevent being seen by any terrorists still searching for the party crashers. It was small but it should be large enough to hold the two of them.

It ended up being a tight squeeze but Jack made it work. With the blond curled up on his lap, Jack was able to hold Mac against him to try to generate some warmth and quell some of the shivers threatening to shake the kid right out of his grasp. The icy forehead was pressed into the side of Jack's neck, too-cold puffs of air blowing against his collarbone.

Concentrating on rubbing his hands up and down Mac's arms, legs, and back, Jack almost missed the sobbed gasp. He halted in his ministrations for a moment and turned his attention to his friend's emotional state, instead. "Mac? Buddy?"

"Nikki," was the only response he got, followed by another sob. Jack hunched down a bit and was surprised to see that MacGyver's eyes were open, a little glassy but aware.

The utter agony held in the gaze was what truly startled him, though. In all the years he'd known him, Jack had never seen that completely exposed look in MacGyver's eyes. The kid compartmentalized better than anyone he'd ever known. And that was including his fellow Delta Commandos, who were _trained_ to work through the pain, physical and emotional. Jack knew Mac had been forced to teach himself how to bury his feelings at a very young age just to survive.

"Don't worry, kid, we'll find her. I promise." Nikki missing should have instilled in the kid his usual stubborn tenacity, a determination to find her, not –

The wet hair brushed against his neck as the kid shook his head sluggishly. "Dead," Mac said simply, one tear sliding down his cheek.

The sound of Jack's broken heart came out in a gasp and, in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to crush his friend in his embrace and hold him until that devastation was gone from his eyes. Unfortunately, their exfil team chose that moment to arrive, announcing their presence with the thumping of propellers and a squawk from the radio with the previously settled upon coded phrase.

Jack leaned out of their little hidey-hole enough for the rescuers to see him and snatched the rope and harness they tossed to him from the chopper. Wrapping the harness around himself and Mac, he held the slender form against him as they were pulled from the ground and up towards the relative safety of the helicopter.

* * *

Immediately upon MacGyver and Jack's arrival at Foundation Medical, the doctors had taken Mac up to surgery to remove the bullet. Now, several hours later, a nurse came down to advise Jack and Thornton that there had been no complications and that MacGyver was resting comfortably in the ICU.

"You can see him," the nurse continued. "But only one at a time."

Thornton decided that Jack would be the one MacGyver would need the most right now, and Jack would be forever grateful to her for that. She returned to her office but not before telling the nurse in no uncertain terms that she wanted to be informed _right away_ of any change in MacGyver's condition.

Jack followed the nurse to MacGyver's room and sat next to the bed for hours, waiting for him to wake up. Late that night, Mac woke from an apparent nightmare with a yell. Jack's quick reflexes were the only thing that kept the kid from launching himself off the bed in his desperation to get to Nikki.

After that first night, the doctors decided that Jack's constant presence was no longer necessary, as it interrupted with their care routine. Jack fought this unilateral decision but his objections were ignored and Thornton said she would do what she could but that, as long as MacGyver's long-term health was not being threatened, any medical decisions were left up to the doctors in charge of his case.

Granted, the kid was putting on a good act during his waking hours, but Jack could see right through it. The empty grin, the dark circles beneath a carefully shuttered gaze. Still, it wasn't surprising when he started insisting he was ready to go home a mere three days after being shot. The doctor had simply smiled, declined his request, and left it at that.

Medical staff had apparently assumed MacGyver would listen and follow his doctor's orders. Jack knew better.

Which was why, when MacGyver's hunched form stumbled into the stairwell down the hall from his room, wearing the remnants of his now bloody tux, he found Jack leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, brow arched in disapproval. Mac stared defiantly at his friend, erecting himself to his full height with a wince of pain at the stretch of stitches. "I'm not going back there, and you can't make me."

Jack chuckled. "Well, actually, I could and you know it." Some of the defiance left MacGyver's gaze, replaced with something Jack wasn't used to seeing… fear. It was small but undeniable. Jack knew full well that Mac wasn't afraid of him. He was afraid of being held in a hospital room against his will, when all he wanted to do was go home and heal in privacy. And Jack couldn't really blame him for that one. Mostly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to make you go back. I just felt it was important that you know that I _could_." He smiled when his words elicited a lopsided grin from the younger man.

"So, you'll take me home then?"

"Nooo," Jack told him. "However," he added in response to the returning insolence, "I will take you back to _my_ home." Mac opened his mouth to protest. "Ah," Jack said, raising a finger to silence him. "It's either that, or I throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to your room."

"You wouldn't dare," MacGyver challenged.

"Try me," Jack challenged back with a twinkle in his eye.

MacGyver studied him and was taken aback by the determination in the gaze. Realizing he had no choice in the matter, Mac sullenly agreed to Jack's terms with downcast eyes and a whispered, "Fine."

"Good boy," Jack said. "Now what say we get you downstairs to the car, huh?"

Draping MacGyver's right arm over his shoulders and putting his own arm around the slim waist, Jack helped his best friend down the four flights of stairs to the garage, all the while discretely hiding the smile on his face.

If he were to be honest, once MacGyver's immediate medical care had been dealt with, Jack had been almost as anxious as Mac for the doctors to clear the kid for home care so that he could take care of his young friend's mental state on his own – with no insensitive nurses barring him from the room 'after visiting hours' and no curious onlookers taking callous notes to add to the patient's chart.

"I thought you'd left," the kid said between gasps of barely concealed pain.

"What?" Mac's words pulled Jack from his inner musings with a jolt. _Left?_

"I hadn't seen you… since the… doctors… refused to let… me… go…" he all but whispered, energy depleting fast. "Figured… you got… another… mission… and had to… leave…"

Startled by this admission, and the tone of abandonment behind the words, Jack halted their progress down the stairs and pressed Mac gently up against the wall with one hand – partially to give the kid a breather, and partially to ensure his undivided attention. "Hey, now, you listen and you listen good. You an' me are partners, kiddo. I don't just get another one when you're laid up for a bit," he waited a moment for that to sink in and the exhaustion must have been messing with MacGyver's emotional barriers because Jack could've sworn he saw relief in those baby blues. "If you're off the mission roster," he added, "I'm off the mission roster. Got it?"

MacGyver nodded, a small grin forming on his lips… just before his knees buckled. Jack lunged forward, his grip the only thing keeping Mac from crumpling to the floor.

"Mac," Jack said, regretfully.

Seeing his intentions in the candid gaze, MacGyver forced himself to stand up straighter. "No… I got this. I just… I need… another… minute..."

"You start bleeding again and I got no choice but to take you back upstairs to let the doctors take another go at ya'," Jack told him as way of explanation.

Mac's face flushed with shame but he nodded slightly and that was all Jack needed before leaning down and scooping the kid up into his arms for the rest of the journey down the stairs. He could sense the mortification coming off his partner in waves, even felt the face, slightly warm with fever, press into his neck like an ostrich – if he can't see it, then maybe it's not actually happening.

"Relax, buddy," Jack consoled. "I disabled the security cameras, it's just you an' me here." And he wasn't the least bit surprised when that bit of information didn't have Mac's face coming up from hiding.

MacGyver didn't like showing weakness in front of anyone. Even Jack… or, perhaps, _especially_ Jack!

* * *

Jack wasn't proud of it but, as per protocol, he had been keeping Bozer updated with stories of Mac and Nikki being on a business trip and their flight home being delayed. Both Jack and MacGyver always hated lying to their friend but it was a necessary tactic to keep him safe.

Now, after yet another phone call informing Mac's oldest friend and roommate that the business trip had been extended for a couple weeks, Jack finished the trek back to his bungalow with MacGyver effectively passed out in the passenger seat.

The kid had offered up the expected token protests, insisting that he was fine and could take care of himself but Jack suspected that his young friend was secretly happy that Jack would be the one taking care of him instead of the skilled, yet coolly distant doctors at Foundation Medical.

Most especially, instead of Bozer because that would mean a constant well-fabricated story of why he was laid up in the first place, let alone why he had a very conspicuous hole in his chest, held together only by neatly sewn black stitches. Even without the pain killers, that kind of bold faced lie would be near impossible for Mac to accomplish. With the pain killers? Forget about it.

And the kid certainly wouldn't be able to hide the emotional pain from his roommate, either. Add to that the distinct probability that Mac would be waking up from more than his fair share of nightmares over the next several days.

No. Jack was the best one to take care of him. MacGyver knows that Jack always has his best interests at heart and wouldn't have to hide his pain for reasons of national security. Hiding the pain simply because it was deeply ingrained in him to do so? That was a different story and it would definitely take more work on Jack's part to break through those barriers.

The drive was quiet without their usual banter, and Jack didn't want to turn on the radio for fear of waking his young friend from his much needed beauty sleep. So, he mentally checked off his to-do list from earlier in the day to ensure he hadn't missed anything.

Because, during the time that Mac had apparently thought Jack had been off on another mission without him, he had actually been taking care of the necessary adjustments to his house for an extended patient stay – fridge and pantry filled with healthy food not usually on the Dalton at-home menu; fully stocked med-kit, including prescription strength pain killers from a field medic who owed Jack a favour; lots of extra blankets, juices, Gatorade. Check. Check. And check.

And, of course, a large box of paperclips for when the kid got antsy and surly. Because those were Mac's most prominent personality traits when he wasn't feeling well and needed to rely on someone else to take care of him. It didn't happen often but, when it did, Jack was the only one up to the task. He knew MacGyver on levels others could only hope to know him. With the number of missions the two had been on together, they had both seen each other at their most vulnerable.

Jack pulled into his garage, switched off the engine and hopped out of the car. He jogged around to the passenger side… and slid to a halt. The side of MacGyver's face was pressed up against the window, slack jawed and drooling. Unable to resist, Jack pulled out his phone and took a picture. He'd tell anyone who asked that he'd taken it for the purposes of future blackmail opportunities – which wasn't such a bad idea – but the real reason he snapped the photo was because it was so dang adorable! He smiled fondly at his patient who looked not a day over sixteen right now, and couldn't help but wish that Mac was his own son. He certainly never would have abandoned him…

Chastising himself because he didn't know the full story of why Mac's dad left, Jack opened the passenger side door, reaching out to catch 150 pounds of sleeping genius. He shook the shoulder gently, "Mac?" No response. "Mac!" Still nothing. With a sigh, Jack slipped an arm behind Mac's back and beneath his knees, lifting him gently out of the car. Probably best for him to be unconscious this time, anyway. No point embarrassing the kid twice in one day.

* * *

Jack sat on the sofa in the living room, watching Die Hard, basically waiting for Mac to wake up so he could take some meds. However, he wasn't expecting the loud yell that came from the other room! Then again, maybe he was. He jumped to his feet and rushed back to his bedroom, weapon drawn just in case.

He turned on the light even as he dropped to one knee, sweeping the expanse of the room with his gun and stuttering to a halt at the sight before him. His jaw dropped and eyes widened in surprise and uncertainty as he watched Mac tossing and turning in the bed, the ample amount of blankets Jack had bundled him in an hour earlier now on the floor in a heap.

Jack approached the bed, heart filling with dread at the sounds of pain and distress coming from his young friend. "Mac, buddy, wake up," he tried, shaking the tense shoulder with one hand. The kid continued to toss and turn. "MacGyver, wake up!" he said a bit louder, getting a glimpse of red forming on the bandage covering MacGyver's wound.

"Nikki," was the last whimpered word before Jack decided on his next course of action.

Resting one knee on the bed, he pulled MacGyver forward, then sat behind him, gathering the slim form against him and holding on tight, while also being careful of the still healing wound. The kid's defenses kicked into high gear, instincts screaming to get away, and he fought Jack's embrace with all his might. Not wanting the stitches to be further damaged, Jack folded him in closer, tucking the blond head beneath his chin, and wrapping his own legs around the ferociously kicking ones.

Jack hated immobilizing the kid completely, knowing that MacGyver's fight or flight instinct would cause him to panic if he couldn't do either, but what other choice did he have? He had to get through to him somehow. Placing his mouth next to his friend's ear, he said firmly, "Mac! Stop!"

Something must have registered because the struggling ceased immediately, followed by a moment of silence. Then: "J-Jack," floated up on a whisper.

Jack's entire being flooded with relief. "Yeah. Yeah, buddy, it's me. You were having a nightmare."

"Sorry," Mac replied, voice betraying his embarrassment. "I'm okay now, though. You can let go."

Not entirely sure he wanted to, Jack released him and got up from the bed. Keeping his eyes on Mac, he blindly reached for the chair a few feet away and pulled it over. He sat down and studied the kid who had worked his way so completely into Jack's heart, he honestly couldn't imagine life without him. Belatedly, he picked up one of the blankets off the floor and laid it over top of the young blond.

"I'm fine, Jack," MacGyver insisted, wincing at the petulance in his voice.

"Yeah, right. You wanna try that again?"

Mac avoided eye contact with his friend. "Okay, I'm not fine. But I will be."

"You're right about that, kiddo. But that process will go a lot faster if you just let me help you."

"I don't need – "

"Any help, yeah, I know. But just imagine if the roles were reversed here for a minute. What if Sarah was the one who died." MacGyver's head shot up at that, eyes wide with shock. "Who was _murdered_ right in front of me." Jack's heart broke yet again as he watched Mac's eyes fill with tears he refused to let fall. "How would you feel, if I pushed you away and insisted on dealing with my pain alone? Would you even _let_ me do that?"

"Jack, I – " MacGyver stammered, gaze falling to his hands, twisting the blanket tightly between his fingers.

One tear made it past the kid's barriers. Jack reached forward and swiped it away with the pad of his thumb, earning a gasp from MacGyver who apparently hadn't noticed it fall in the first place. The slim frame went rigid as the kid tried to hold back the deluge threatening to tear him apart. Jack placed one calloused palm at the nape of MacGyver's neck and squeezed. He could feel the muscles shake, as he tried to massage out some of the tension.

Another tear slipped free. This time, MacGyver was the one to swipe it away, cheeks flushing with anger and, if Jack were to guess, shame.

Not removing his hand from the back of the tense neck, Jack shifted out of his chair and sat on the bed so that he was facing the kid. MacGyver started to get up, fight or flight instincts in control once again, but Jack grabbed him firmly yet gently by the arm with his free hand, holding him in place. "Look at me," he said softly. When there was no move to comply, he repeated himself, sharply this time. "Look. At. Me."

Slowly, the blond head came up and Jack couldn't miss the defiance in the jutted chin but he was more concerned with what he saw in MacGyver's eyes, still brimming with unshed tears. The pain in those blue orbs was crushing. "Aw, come on, kid. Let me help you."

Mac's lower lip quivered against his will and another tear slid down his face. But before he could reach up to get rid of it, he felt Jack lower his arm to wrap around his shoulders and start to ease him forward, twisting him gently to the side in the same movement. MacGyver pulled back but his resistance had little to no effect and he found himself curled up on Jack's lap, cheek pressed against the solid chest, Jack's chin resting on the top of his head. "Jack, this is stupid. Let me go." But there was no response. Mac tried again to pull away but Jack wasn't budging. "Jack, let me go." As he felt his emotions well up within him, he fought more frantically – pushing and pulling, even punching.

Jack just held on tighter.

His anger mixed with his grief caused more tears to fall. MacGyver was mortified when the first sob ripped free. Then another. And another. Until his entire body was shaking in his friend's arms, his tears soaking the black t-shirt beneath his face. Unexpectedly, he found his hands had stopped pushing, pulling, and punching, and instead gripped that same black fabric, as if for dear life.

Nikki was dead. What was he going to do now? Nikki was dead…

He vaguely felt Jack's hand card through his hair, and didn't realize until he had sobbed himself dry that he was being rocked back and forth like a child. He tried to pull away but just couldn't find the energy to put much effort into it. Nor could he bring himself to release the death grip on the t-shirt. It was weird.

When MacGyver finally fell asleep, his weight pressed more heavily against him, Jack decided to stay exactly where he was. It was his job to keep the bad guys away from this little guy, and that included the ones in his subconscious.

Jack had his back and he always would… even in dreamland.

 _THE END._


End file.
